Chapter 6 - The Aftermath
By noon, the grand ballroom had emptied of guests, replaced by investigators, forensics teams, and federal marshals carting away boxes of documents and computer hard drives.
Salvatore and Camille sat in handcuffs at separate tables, their brilliant conspiracy dissolving into a mountain of federal indictments for attempted murder, corporate fraud, and racketeering. Camille’s mascara was smeared across her cheeks as she glared at Adeline with pure, unadulterated venom one last time before being led out by female deputies.
Adeline stood by the tall arched windows, looking out over the manicured lawns where police cruisers were parked bumper-to-bumper.
A shadow fell across the floor beside her.
She turned to see Nico rolling slowly toward her, though he occasionally rested his hand on a mahogany walking cane leaning against his armrest.
“Well,” Adeline said softly, folding her hands in front of her dress. “That’s one way to handle an engagement party.”
Nico let out a low chuckle, stopping his chair a foot away from her. He looked tired, but for the first time in eight months, the lines of chronic agony around his eyes were gone.
“You ruined the catering,” he noted dryly.
“And you ruined my Tuesday morning schedule. I’m supposed to be at the hospital with Wes right now.”
“Not in an Uber, you aren't,” Nico said, lifting a small, heavy velvet box from his lap and holding it out toward her.
Adeline looked down at the box, then up at him, her eyebrows rising. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
She took the box and flipped the lid. Inside rested a thick, vintage platinum watch engraved with the Alfieri seal on the back—and beneath it, a cashier’s check made out to the Chicago Children’s Cardiac Foundation, covering the entirety of Wes’s surgery, post-operative care, and college fund, signed personally by the majority shareholder of Alfieri Enterprises.
“Nico... I can’t accept this,” she whispered, her throat suddenly tight. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not a gift, Marsh,” he said, his voice dropping into that warm, steady register she had come to trust above everything else in this chaotic world. “It’s a retainer. My head of security tells me we need a new personal administrator—someone who isn't afraid of vipers, forged charts, or broken wheelchairs.”
Adeline stared at the check, then looked up into Nico’s dark, unwavering eyes. The fear and exhaustion of the past three months slowly washed away, replaced by the quiet, unshakable certainty that whatever came next, they would face it together.
She closed the velvet box, tucked it securely into her bag, and offered him a small, genuine smile.
“When do I start?”
May you like
Nico stood up from his chair, gripping his cane with one hand and extending the other toward her with a look of quiet triumph.
“Right now.”
